


Three Phone Calls

by kscribbles



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-09
Updated: 2013-05-09
Packaged: 2017-12-10 21:14:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/790236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kscribbles/pseuds/kscribbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For some reason, he didnt want her leaving the ship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Phone Calls

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the final challenge at the lj comm, writerinatardis (and won, yay! thanks everyone!), the prompt for which was _Rose is staying at Jackie's for the night. The Doctor is not impressed. He decides to do something about it._. Unbeta'd. Slight angst, a bit of fluff. Written in 2009

i.

She’d stay. After a year missing from home, even though it’d not been nearly that long for her, she’d want to stick around. See her family and friends; assure everyone she was all right. Oh he didn’t kid himself, she’d be back. Already she couldn’t resist this life. Her thirst for adventure, her wide-eyed curiosity, coupled with an innate cleverness–she was made for it, same as him. But for tonight at least, and probably a few days afterwards, she’d stay.

Which was fine. He needed some time to make sure the Slitheen’s signal was dispersed properly anyway. That would only be a few hours though. Then what?

He sat heavily on the TARDIS jump seat and scrubbed his hands over his head, thinking about Rose back in the flat with Jackie. She’d be having tea with her mum at the small kitchen table. Or she’d be on the phone with a mate spinning lies to cover up truths that were infinitely more fantastical. Or maybe she was laying on the couch, exhausted after so much adventure–her short t-shirt perhaps riding up her torso as she stretched…

He shook his head to clear it of those thoughts. Sighing, he began configuring the cancelling signal. Before he could finish inputting the sequence for the frequency, though, his mind, against his will, wandered back to Rose. He’d laid himself bare to her _again_ just hours ago, hadn’t he? To her, to her mum, Mickey, and Harriet Jones as well–when he’d hesitated to destroy the building for fear of losing her. But she brought that out in him, it seemed. He’d already opened up to her about his doomed planet and people, after all. How long before he was outside her window with flowers and a guitar, mooning like a whelp of 90, rather than a Time Lord of 900? He was far past smitten. Already he _needed_ her.

He growled in frustration and tossed his sonic screwdriver across the console room. Immediately he jumped up to retrieve it. He paced the length of the room, tapping the sonic angrily against his open palm.

He was above this. He was meant to be alone. Deserved it, didn’t he? He could _handle_ a night away from her. Best not smother her, anyway. And in here, by himself, he was safe from her mother and… and…

Oh who was he kidding? Not even a night without her was acceptable.

He wept inwardly for the loss of even more shreds of his dignity and picked up the phone to dial her mobile.

“…Right now there’s this plasma storm brewing in the Horsehead Nebula…”

 

ii.

The TARDIS was still floating in the vortex when she finished getting ready. There was no change in the ship’s hum as she applied her mascara, or stepped into her shoes, or lifted her jacket and overnight bag off the chair.

She entered the console room expecting to see the Doctor at the console–a pinstriped leg thrown over something–or at least starting the materialisation sequence for landing them on the Powell Estate, but he wasn’t there. He was nowhere to be seen. The only thing apparently _in_ the room besides herself was a large stack of boxes, several wide, taller than she was, and blocking the ramp to the doors.

Then she heard him, rustling from somewhere, swallowing a curse as something heavy-sounding banged and the pile of boxes shuddered.

“Doctor?” she asked cautiously.

“Rose!” said the boxes.

More rustling and shivering and a moment later, the Doctor’s slightly dusty head appeared at the top of the pile, followed by the rest of his lanky body clamouring to the top. He stood triumphantly, if precariously, on them and gave her a small wave.

“Hello!” he said with a grin.

“Hi. What... what are you doing?”

“What, this?” he replied as he climbed down the face of the boxes. He hopped off safely and dusted off his knees. “Spring cleaning.”

“It’s not spring. We’re going home for my birthday. And anyway, no seasons on the TARDIS.”

“Just cleaning, then. And,” he said approaching her and whispering conspiratorially, “it’s not really your birthday.”

“Well Mum thinks it is and you were supposed to take us there... nowish.”

“I did. I have. I mean, I will. See?” He pointed to the monitor like its swirls and circles meant anything to her. “Already set the coordinates. Just have to press that button there and release the handbrake.”

“After your... cleaning?” she asked, glancing at the boxes again.

“Well. Yes.” He ruffled his hair to shake some of the dust out. “I may have got carried away. Haven’t cleaned in... a while. If you just give me a few hours–”

She crossed her arms across her chest and tried to look stern–difficult when he was dusty, flustered, and a bit adorable. “Take me to Mum’s,” she demanded.

“Right. No problem.”

He pressed a button and pulled a lever, and true to his word they were landing in moments.

“There,” he pronounced. “Didn’t even topple the boxes.”

“And how am I supposed to get out?”

“Hmmm. I hadn’t thought of that,” he said innocently. “Well, I suppose you’ll just have to help me sort it. Won’t take long. Weren’t in a rush were you?”

“Doctor, you’ll have my mum banging on that door in a minute. You knew that I promised her I’d come celebrate with her and then stay the night so that we could have some mother-daughter time. What’s this all about?”

Because this wasn’t about cleaning. For some reason, he didn’t want her leaving the ship.

“Nothing,” he said too quickly. “I was looking for a book and it wasn’t in the library, so I figured it was under the grating somewhere. Then I realised what a rubbish filing system I’d set up a couple hundred years ago, so naturally I had to rearrange it and so then I–”

“Doctor,” she interrupted gently, “tell me.”

The mask of nonchalance slipped from his features. “I...” he began, but then snapped his mouth shut.

“Is this about what you said in 2012, at the Olympics? Is that storm coming?”

He shook his head, but the flash in his eyes when she mentioned the year said she’d hit it right. He’d already told her he didn’t know what was coming, or when. But whatever it was that he was afraid of happening, she realised, it would happen on Earth, in London even–everything did.

He sighed and reached for her hands, rubbing the backs of them gently with his thumbs.

“Don’t go,” he pleaded softly.

It was a rare moment of vulnerability and it shocked her speechless. So instead of speaking, she pulled him into a hug and let him cling to her tightly.

“You could come with me,” she said when she’d found her voice.

“Intrude on mother-daughter time? I don’t think so,” he murmured into her hair.

“I’ll be okay, you know.”

“’Course you will,” he agreed, and then released her. “Help me with these boxes?”

Several hours later, after a fun, though alien-free evening, and after she’d put Jackie (who’d overdone her celebrating just a bit) to bed, she found herself tossing and turning in her own old bed. It was too quiet. Or the noise was the wrong kind. The temperature was off and the duvet wasn’t half as comfortable as she remembered.

And there really wouldn’t be any harm in just calling the TARDIS to wish the Doctor goodnight, would there? She’d get him rambling about Salbroxtan money or something and the warm tones of his voice would soothe her right to sleep.

“Hello, Rose,” he answered cheerfully. “Hold on a tic.”

And then the TARDIS was materialising right in her bedroom. She groaned. Mum would kill him for waking her. But oddly, the wheeze of the engines seemed sort of muted, like the ship was whispering.

Surprised, she stared at him as he opened the doors, silhouetted by the ship’s golden interior.

“Happy un-birthday, Rose.”

She leapt from the bed and into his arms, a delighted smile on her face. It’d only been hours, but oh, she _missed_ him. It briefly occurred to her that they might have both become a bit clingy lately (though not without good reason) after all they’d been through.

“Do you want to celebrate with me now, in the TARDIS?”

“Mmm,” she mumbled, inhaling his scent. “I’d love to, but I promised Mum I’d not go anywhere.”

“Ah, but _technically_ , you’d still be in your room,” he pointed out. “Everyone’s happy!”

She considered. So maybe she’d have to deal with her mom’s fury in the morning; it’d be worth it.

“You’re very clever, Doctor,” she said, following him into the TARDIS.

He beamed at her. “I’m _brilliant_.”

 

iii.

“Tell me again why you’re spending the night at Jackie and Pete’s?” he said into the receiver.

“Because, Doctor, it’s the night before our wedding and Mum thought I should stay here.”

“What for? To protect your maidenly virtue? She does know we sleep together, right? And by sleep I mean have sex?”

She rolled her eyes at the phone. “No, Doctor. I’m sure she thinks we cling to the edges of the bed, stuff a barrier of pillows between us and that you keep a leg on the floor. Yes, she knows. It’s like not seeing me until I walk down the aisle–it’s tradition.”

“Well, it’s a stupid tradition,” he grumbled.

“Like marriage?”

“A bit.” A fraction of a second too late, he realised what he’d said. “No! I mean–”

“This was your idea, you know.”

“Yes, but that was before I knew we’d have to spend the night apart. Isn’t that why people get married, so they won’t have to do that anymore?”

“We’ve been apart before, Doctor,” she said gently. She meant recently, of course, like when a Torchwood mission pulled her away for sometimes days at a time, but both of them were reminded of their longer separation–when they’d been stuck on opposite ends of the void.

“Only when we had to be,” he answered. “Not voluntarily. Just seems like asking for trouble. And the two of us? Hardly need to ask.”

Her soft giggle sounded on the line.

“What if there’s an alien invasion?”

“I promise to call if there’s an alien invasion, Doctor.”

“But what if... say... on this side of London, there just _happens_ to be–”

“You can’t fake an alien invasion,” she said. “We’ve talked about this before.”

“Fine,” he groused.

They were both quiet for several seconds.

“Stop thinking about it! I said no.”

“ _Rose_ ,” he whined, and then paused again. When he spoke it was almost too low for the phone to pick up. “I’ll miss you.”

“Yeah?”

He cleared his throat meaningfully. She smiled.

“Me too,” she murmured. “And Doctor?”

“Yes?”

“Be good.”

 

* * *

Rose wasn’t even surprised when she was woken by the sounds of pebbles being lobbed at the window. Dragging herself out of bed, she threw the glass wide open to the cold night air.

“Doctor,” she whisper-hissed, “you have a _key_. Also, bit cliché, isn’t it? Rocks at a girl’s window?”

His grin flashed brilliantly in the moonlight as he began to climb the trellis.

“Not cliché, Rose–classic.” He threw a leg over the sash and tumbled into the room. “Besides,” he said straightening his clothing. “Don’t I get any credit for charming the guards?”

“They’ll get the wrath of Jackie tomorrow, Doctor,” she said, dragging him towards her by his lapels and kissing him firmly.

“It’d be worth it,” he said against her mouth. “Though I promised to be gone by morning.”

She moved her hands into his hair and he groaned appreciatively. Then she brought her lips to his ear and whispered.

His eyes widened.

“You’ll make _what_ up to me tomorrow night?”

She pulled away and gave him a gentle shove back towards the open window.

 

FIN

* * *

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